


Slowly Counting Down the Days

by TheGreatSporkWielder



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatSporkWielder/pseuds/TheGreatSporkWielder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie (literally) bumps into Darcy while observing his company and he invites her over to meet his sister. Lizzie comes to realize that he's not quite as terrible as she thought.</p><p>(Ended due to severe canon-balling.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so my characterization of Gigi is probably way off, but I kind of like the idea of Gigi being more outgoing than Darcy. 
> 
> This is my "Pemberley arc" fic. Because I needed it.
> 
> Title taken from the song "To Whom it May Concern" by The Civil Wars

 

 

Lizzie couldn’t believe what was happening.

 

She’d been working on her independent studies for the last few months, shadowing at a few different companies in the area, and everything had been going great. But then it came time for her last one, and lo and behold, who should the CEO of this company be? William Darcy.

 

 Go figure.

 

Lizzie hadn’t laid eyes on him since the day he’d given her The Letter (and yes, it was capitalized in her head), but she’d been assured by Darcy’s P.A., Jenny, that he was out of town for the next month.

 

 Apparently, Jenny was misinformed, because Lizzie had literally bumped into Darcy while fixing a cup of coffee in the break room about a week into her time there. After an exchange that was more awkward than that first dance, Darcy had invited Lizzie over to his house for lunch one Sunday afternoon. “My sister’s been very anxious to meet you,” he’d said, and Lizzie wasn’t quite sure _why_ Gigi Darcy would want to meet the woman who’d so humiliatingly rejected her brother in a video that had almost 300,000 hits (it couldn’t be for any _good_ reason), but Lizzie found herself agreeing and the next thing she knew she had been whisked away (by Darcy’s driver, naturally) to the largest home Lizzie had ever seen. It made Netherfield look like her parents’ house.

 

As Lizzie stepped out of the car, Darcy and a tall young woman about Lydia’s age came up to greet her.

 

“Hello, Lizzie,” said Darcy, nodding at her.

 

“Thank you for inviting me.”

 

“You’re quite welcome,” he said. “May I introduce my sister, Gigi?”

 

Gigi’s eyes lit up as they met Lizzie’s. “So _you’re_ Elizabeth Bennet!” Gigi exclaimed, thrusting one hand in Lizzie’s direction. “It’s _so great_ to finally meet you.”

 

“Hi,” said Lizzie, a bit thrown at Gigi’s exuberant greeting, darting a quick glance over at Darcy as she shook Gigi’s hand. It certainly wasn't the greeting she was expecting.  “And, please, call me Lizzie.”

 

“Will tells me you play tennis, Lizzie,” said Gigi, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

 

“Uh, yeah, I do,” Lizzie stammered. “I mean, I _used_ to, back in high school.”

 

“Would you _please_ play with me?” Gigi pleaded. “It’d be nice to play for fun with someone who can actually _return a serve once in a while_.” She sent a pointed glare at her older brother.

 

“You always coerced me,” he protested. “I never claimed to be able to play.”

 

“Which is good, because then you’d be a liar _,”_ teased Gigi.

 

Lizzie’s head swiveled back and forth as she watched them. “Darcy can’t play tennis?” she asked.

 

Gigi rolled her eyes. “God, no _,”_ she said. “He can’t even get into a proper stance.”

 

Lizzie smirked. “It’s nice to know there’s _something_ you’ll admit you’re not good at,” she said to Darcy.

 

He shifted uncomfortably, the easy posture he’d had while talking with Gigi gone as he straightened back into his usual stiff stance. “I can think of a few other things,” he muttered, and Lizzie flushed a bit as his meaning hit her.

 

“Come on, then,” said Gigi, grabbing Lizzie’s hand. “After lunch, we can play. I’ve got an extra racket you can borrow.”

 

* * *

 

Lunch was far less awkward than Lizzie thought it would be. Gigi was friendly and kept the conversation flowing, asking Lizzie about everything from her grad studies to her family.

“I always wanted a sister,” said Gigi, after Lizzie had told her about Jane and Lydia. “Don’t get me wrong, Will is great, but he’s not exactly the right kind of person to, you know, talk about clothes and cute boys with.” She beamed at her brother, who quirked his lips at her in response.

“My apologies,” he said dryly. “Next time, I’ll make sure I know the difference between Justin Timberlake and Justin Bieber.”

“Ugh,” said Gigi, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know what disturbs me more: that you know who they are or that you think I actually listen to their music.”

“I suppose now is not the time to declare my Bieber Fever,” said Lizzie.

Gigi blinked at her. “You’re…” she shot a glance at her brother before returning her gaze to Lizzie. “You’re joking, right?”

Lizzie smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I’m joking. Though I plead the fifth on whether or not I had a crush on Justin Timberlake when I was thirteen.”

“That can be easily attributed to the follies of youth,” said Darcy, mostly to his empty plate.

“Gee, thanks,” said Lizzie, rolling her eyes, and she watched Darcy's shoulders relax as Gigi laughed. 

 

* * *

 

Lizzie collapsed into a chair on the side of the tennis court and groaned as she closed her eyes.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

Lizzie opened her eyes to see Darcy standing over her, looking down at her with a concerned little frown on his face.

 

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, standing back up so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck so far to talk to him. “Just sore from playing tennis with Gigi.”

 

“Gigi really likes you,” Darcy said.

 

“And I like her,” Lizzie replied. “She seems like a great girl.”

 

“I think so,” said Darcy, with a hint of almost-paternal pride in his voice.

 

“And she totally kicked my ass in tennis.”

 

“Well, she _is_ nationally ranked.”

 

“And it shows. But I’ve got to ask: how on _earth_ did a guy as reserved as you are end up with a sister like Gigi?”

 

“Family rumor is that she was accidentally switched at birth with the real, far more dour, Georgiana,” Darcy deadpanned.

 

“Did you…just make a joke?” Lizzie asked incredulously.

 

“Impossible,” Darcy replied. “Darcybots are programmed without a sense of humor. I thought you knew that.”

 

Lizzie’s mouth dropped open slightly as she gaped at him. He met her gaze solemnly, his face impassive, and after a silent beat, Lizzie snorted. “Another one?” she said. “Who are you and what have you done with William Darcy?”

 

“It’s entirely your fault. You are a terrible influence, Elizabeth Bennet,” he replied, lips twitching slightly into something that might almost have been a smile, and Lizzie thought she saw a hint of dimples in his cheeks.

 

“I suppose you’ll get kicked out of the Douchey Wealthy Snobs Club for this.”

 

“Please,” said Darcy, raising a supercilious brow. “We prefer to be called the Pretentious Rich and Tactless Society, thank you very much.”

 

“PRATS?” Lizzie snickered. “Now that’s just terrible.”

 

He ducked his head, and Lizzie thought she saw a faint blush on his cheeks. “Speaking of pretentious, that reminds me,” he said, lightly touching her elbow. “Follow me, please; I have something I’d like to show you.”

 

“Okay,” Lizzie replied, confused. She walked with him as he led her back inside the house and down a hall. He opened a heavy wooden door and guided her into what looked like a study. With that ghost of a smile on his face again, he gestured to a large tapestry hanging on the wall.

 

“Oh, my _God,”_ Lizzie exclaimed, turning to gape at him. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

“The Darcy family crest, yes.”

 

“You actually _have one?”_ she asked incredulously. “I was joking.”

 

He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable at her scrutiny. “We can trace our family almost all the way back to William the Conqueror, if we look hard enough,” he said.

 

“Wow,” she replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “What’s it say?” She pointed to the phrase across the top of the crest.

 

“‘One God, One King,’” he replied. Lips twitching again, he continued, “Absolutely nothing about—“

 

“Okay, okay,” Lizzie interrupted, flapping one hand at him. “I get it. I was wrong. And you have a disturbingly good memory for the insults I threw at you.”

 

He shrugged again.

 

 “I didn’t know people actually _had_ these anymore, except if you were royalty or something.” Lizzie said, narrowing her eyes up at him. “You’re _not_ royalty, are you?”

 

His lips curled up into a full smile, and yes, those _were_ dimples, and the thought crossed Lizzie’s mind that he should smile more often because he had a really great smile. “Not to my knowledge,” he replied. “And even if we were, I’d be about fifteen millionth in line for the throne.”

 

“Too bad,” Lizzie replied. “I was looking forward to crashing at Buckingham Palace and sock sliding all over the place.”

 

“Is that even allowed?” he mused.

 

“I bet the king or queen can decide that,” Lizzie said. “I mean, what’s the use of being the ruler of a country if you can’t sock slide in your own palace every now and then?”

 

He shook his head, amused, as he led her out of the study and back outside to the tennis court, where Gigi had turned on the ball machine and was walloping the balls with a vengeance.  They watched Gigi in silence for a few minutes before Lizzie said, “I just wanted to thank you for letting me hang around the offices for a while for my class.”

 

He looked down at her, his face once again impassive, but his eyes still glinting with a bit of warmth. “It’s fine,” he said. “And if there’s anything you need to make your observation go more smoothly, you only need ask.”

 

Lizzie felt nervous all of a sudden, and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind one ear. “Thanks,” she stuttered. “And, um,” she waved a hand, “thanks for having me over.”

 

“You’re always welcome,” he replied, his voice sincere.

 

Lizzie wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

 

“Thank _you_ ,” he continued suddenly, sounding a bit self-conscious, “for playing with Gigi. She wasn’t lying when she said she hasn’t been able to play for fun lately.”

 

“No worries,” said Lizzie, smiling up at him. “It was fun, even if she did kick my ass from here to Los Angeles.” Lizzie was fairly certain that she was imagining the way Darcy’s eyes softened as they met hers.  There was no way he was still in love with her, which was really too bad because Lizzie could actually see herself falling for _this_ Darcy, who smiled and was kind of funny and didn’t constantly look like he had a stick up his ass.

 

Lizzie could feel herself flushing even redder at the thought, and cleared her throat. “Well, I should probably get going,” she said. “It’s getting kind of late.”

 

“Of course,” Darcy replied. Lizzie waved goodbye to Gigi before following Darcy back up to the house, where his driver was waiting for her. Waving off the driver, Darcy opened the door for Lizzie, who hesitated and turned back to face him.

 

“Will you be at the office tomorrow?”  she asked.

 

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Naturally,” he answered.

 

Without thinking, Lizzie thrust her hand out to him. “Well, see you tomorrow, then.”

 

Darcy gently took her hand in his, and Lizzie had the sudden crazy thought that he was going to kiss it. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when he merely squeezed her fingers slightly before letting go. She slid into the car and he gently shut the door after her. She couldn’t help but look back at him as the car started driving away, and she kept her eyes on Darcy’s unmoving form until the car turned a corner and she could no longer see him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, this is now a multi-chapter work, and I _am_ writing a Pemberley Arc fic. JUST WHAT I NEEDED, ANOTHER WIP.
> 
> This chapter was inspired by Ashley Clements mentioning (and Rachel Kiley confirming) that Lizzie has never really left home. 
> 
> Many thanks to katieisgettingthere on tumblr for giving me the name of a good organic fair-trade coffee. 
> 
> I’m taking liberties in having Gigi not like Caroline, as there is no indication, as far as I can recall, in either the book or any previous film adaptations that Georgiana and Caroline weren’t genuinely friends. 
> 
> Also, because I know people are floating theories around tumblr, it’s my headcanon that Gigi has **not** seen Lizzie’s videos and all she knows about Lizzie is what Darcy has told her. Which means Gigi has a fairly favorable view of Lizzie, since her beloved big brother is head over heels for this woman.

A few days later, Lizzie was working in the spare office she’d been set up in when she heard a knock on her door.  “Come in,” she called, and even now it still felt odd to have her very own office, as though she was an actual employee here and not just hanging in some strange limbo between “weirdo who doesn’t work here but hangs out here all day anyway,” and “gainfully employed member of the staff.”

 

The door opened and, to Lizzie’s mild surprise, Darcy poked his head in. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.

 

“No,” said Lizzie, standing and waving him in. “I was about to take a coffee break, anyway. I’m pretty sure I could survive forever on the coffee you have here.”

 

“It’s Laughing Man,” he said helpfully. “The Java blend.”

 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s incredible,” Lizzie replied, resisting the urge to comment on the irony of someone like Darcy buying a coffee called ‘Laughing Man.’ “It’s no wonder the competition to work here is so strong.”

 

“Yes,” Darcy replied, nodding. “It has nothing to do with the prestige or our generous benefits package or the three weeks’ paid vacation. It’s the coffee.”

 

“Whatever,” said Lizzie, barely restraining herself from sticking her tongue out at him. “What did you need?”

 

“Gigi asked me to give you this,” said Darcy, handing Lizzie an envelope.

 

“Thanks,” she replied, opening it and pulling out a thick piece of paper. She couldn’t help the amused twist to her lips as she read it. “An invitation for dinner Friday night,” she said. “Can’t you guys just use the phone or create a Facebook event like normal people?”

 

“Apparently not,” he said, and while his face was as impassive as ever, his voice was warm. “Will you come?”

 

Lizzie waved the invitation at him. “If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll fill out my RSVP card with a ‘yes.’”

 

“Thank you,” he said. “Gigi will be glad to have you over again.”

 

 _Only Gigi?_ Lizzie thought, but bit her lip to keep the question from slipping out. Darcy may have morphed into something resembling a typical human being, but he was still _Darcy_ and it still felt weird that she actually seemed to be flirting with him every once in a while.

 

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the slip of paper. “Tell Gigi I’m looking forward to seeing her again, too.”

 

“She’ll appreciate it,” he replied, and, after giving her the ghost of a smile, he left.

* * *

“Oh, thank _God,_ you’re here,” Gigi exclaimed, grabbing Lizzie’s wrist like a lifeline and dragging her through the front door and into the foyer, and as Lizzie allowed herself to be led into the house, she gave an apologetic shrug to the uniformed man who’d been holding the door for her (of _course_ the Darcys had a butler). “I was so close to committing murder, you have no idea.”

 

“Um,” said Lizzie, confused. “It’s great to see you again, too, though I don’t think we’re quite to the ‘Help You Hide the Body’ stage of our friendship.”

 

“ _Caroline Lee_ is here,” Gigi hissed, her eyes darting around the foyer as though the mere mention of Caroline’s name might summon her into their presence. “I can’t stand her.”

 

“Huh,” said Lizzie. “The way she talked about you, I always figured you two were friends.”

 

Gigi rolled her eyes and released her grip on Lizzie’s arm. “No,” she said. “She likes to think we’re friends because that means she’s one step closer to marrying Will, but she always treats me like I’m the ten-year-old I was when we first met.”

 

“That’s got to be annoying.”

 

“It is,” Gigi said. “I’m _nineteen_ , for God’s sake. And just last week, she was telling me that I should’ve stuck to swimming because she was _so_ looking forward to watching me practice on our cruise to St Maarten this summer.”

 

“What?” Lizzie exclaimed in mock-horror. “You mean you’ll be on a cruise ship _without tennis courts?_ Unthinkable!”

 

Gigi laughed. “I think it’s more that it’d be a bit odd to watch someone practice tennis while in your bikini,” she said. “Not to mention I don’t recall inviting her to come with us and I highly doubt Will did, either. Just wait; she’ll probably try something else at dinner tonight.”

* * *

Caroline’s sharp gaze had been flitting between Darcy and Lizzie the entire dinner. To her apparent chagrin, the two of them had not been gazing longingly at each other over the soup, or staring daggers over the entree, or whatever Caroline had been expecting to happen. Lizzie had been entertaining Gigi with stories about her sisters (she’d just finished The Unfortunate Tale of Poor Mr Wuffles, and Gigi had laughed so hard she’d nearly choked), and although Darcy’s eyes had drifted to Lizzie and Gigi on more than one occasion (and Lizzie could’ve sworn he smiled the tiniest bit at the Mr Wuffles story), he’d spent most of the meal talking with Bing about the other man’s post-graduation plans, with occasional unsolicited interjections from Caroline.

 

“Oh, Bing, we should _really_ go to Paris again,” said Caroline persuasively. “We’ve been meaning to return, you remember?”

 

Bing nodded. “That would be fun,” he said affably. “Assuming I can get the time.”

 

Caroline turned to Lizzie and Gigi. “I remember _you_ always enjoyed Paris, Gigi,” she said.

 

Gigi nodded. “That time Will took me to see the French Open was one of the best trips ever.”

 

“We should all go together,” Caroline exclaimed, and Lizzie could almost hear Gigi thinking _I told you so._ Caroline’s gimlet eye drifted to Lizzie. “Have _you_ ever been to Paris, Lizzie?” she asked, arching one perfect brow.

 

“No,” said Lizzie with a shrug and a rueful smile. “The farthest I’ve ever traveled is…well, here. I’ve never actually left California. I don’t even have a passport.”

 

Caroline gasped theatrically. “Oh, _Lizzie,”_ she admonished. “You are missing out. You should really try to see Europe one day. Travel truly broadens the mind; it makes one more…sophisticated. Why, I would almost say that a person can’t be _truly_ together until they’ve spent time abroad. Wouldn’t you agree, Darcy?” She turned to look at Darcy, her shiny hair swirling around her shoulders.

 

“No,” he said bluntly, his eyes on his plate, and Lizzie bit back a smirk at the way Caroline seemed taken aback at his abrupt answer. Darcy looked up and furrowed his brow thoughtfully for a moment, then continued. “While traveling certainly does enhance one’s appreciation for another culture by granting them the luxury of experiencing it firsthand, it does not follow that _lack_ of travel precludes such appreciation,” he said. “I know quite a few people who are intelligent, worldly, and articulate and yet have never left the United States. A person should not be denigrated simply because they lack the desire, or perhaps the means, to travel abroad.”

 

“I suppose you’re right,” demurred Caroline, “but you must admit that travel, in itself, has a sort of ambiance that should not be missed. Particularly flying; I’ve always enjoyed the flight to Paris.”

 

“You are entitled to your opinion, of course,” said Darcy, giving her a deferential nod. “Personally, I feel that flying loses its appeal around hour number four.”

 

“That’s because _you_ almost always travel for business,” said Caroline with an attempt at a playful smile. “I’m certain if you traveled for pleasure more often, you’d have a far more positive opinion of it.”

 

Darcy hesitated, his eyes darting to Lizzie for a moment. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “it would depend on whom I traveled with.”

 

Lizzie could feel herself blushing and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Gigi glance over at her and smirk. “I hope _I’m_ included in that number,” Gigi piped up.

 

Darcy’s lips relaxed into something affectionate that wasn’t quite a smile. “Of course you are, Gigi,” he replied.

 

“We _all_ are, I’m sure,” interjected Caroline, sending a too-bright smile to everyone at the table. “After all, we’re such good friends, here.”

 

Before anyone could respond to that statement, Caroline returned her sharp gaze to Lizzie. “Speaking of good friends, how _is_ Jane? I’ve missed her so much.”

 

Lizzie watched as Bing, who’d been rather casually listening to the conversation up until this point, suddenly sat up straight. He gave no other indication that he was listening, but instead busied himself with rearranging the stray bits of food left on his plate.

 

“She’s fine,” said Lizzie, infusing her voice with an enthusiasm as fake as Caroline’s. “Working hard.”

 

“I’m so _glad_ to hear it,” said Caroline, her voice syrupy sweet. “I’m so happy for her; she’s going to go so far in life.  And what about _your_ dear friend, George Wickham? How’s he doing?”

 

There was a sharp clatter as Gigi dropped her fork, and Lizzie noted the panicked look she sent to Darcy, whose jaw clenched as he turned his suddenly cold gaze to Caroline.

 

“Haven’t heard from him,” Lizzie said hastily, subtly reaching over to lay a reassuring hand on Gigi’s tense forearm. “I don’t consider us friends anymore. For lots of reasons, really, but certainly his lack of communication is one of them.” She narrowed her eyes and continued in as frosty a tone as she could muster, “I know I couldn’t really consider anyone my friend who would just stop talking to me for no reason and let me think it’s my fault the relationship between us ended.”

 

The tips of Bing’s ears turned red and Caroline sputtered a bit, but as Lizzie felt Gigi relax beneath her fingers and met Darcy’s appreciative gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to regret her biting words. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lizzie was sifting through some printouts of monthly status reports for her independent study project after a rather productive meeting with Darcy and one of his executives when she heard the _ping_ from her computer that let her know she’d received a new email. It was from Gigi, and was titled **HELP! Come over pronto! (P.S. Bring a shovel.)**

Smiling slightly, Lizzie opened the email, which read:

 

_Oh, my God, Lizzie. It's been four days and I just can’t take Caroline anymore.  Are we to the Help Hide the Body stage yet, because I could really use a henchwoman right now, and Will won’t help because it wouldn’t look so good if he helped kill his BFF’s sister. Even if she is a bitch. (Plus he’s got this **thing** about doing stuff that’s illegal. What’s up with that?)_

_At least promise me you’ll come over and play tennis with me again this weekend? I’ll even use my sisterly wiles to get Will and Bing to play and then we can point and laugh at them together. It’ll be fun!_

_~Gigi_

Lizzie was openly grinning as she composed her reply to Gigi, agreeing to come over and assuring her that while they had not yet quite reached “Help Hide the Body” status, they were at least up to the “Won’t Narc on You When the Cops Come Calling” stage.

 

She was in the middle of telling Gigi that coercing Darcy and Bing into playing wasn’t necessary when her phone rang. She dug it out of the pocket of her jacket and glanced at the number.

 

Why would Jane be calling her at this time of day? Shouldn’t she be at work?

“Jane?” Lizzie asked quizzically, tilting her head to press the phone between her cheek and shoulder so she could finish typing the last sentence of her email to Gigi and send it. “Are you okay? You don’t sound so great; what’s going on?” She pushed back her chair and stood up, wandering over to the window and glancing out at the busy street below as she spoke.

 

“Oh, _Lizzie_ ,” Jane sobbed, “it’s Lydia!” And Lizzie listened, with growing shock, as Jane told her what had happened to their youngest sister. Lizzie felt numb as she ended the call and slowly took her phone away from her ear. She collapsed onto the wide windowsill, her mind reeling in disbelief from what Jane had just told her.

 

Lizzie didn’t know how much time passed before she heard a quiet tap on her open door. “Lizzie? Are you all right?” Lizzie didn’t look up as Darcy spoke, though she felt her throat tighten further at the obvious concern in his voice.

 

Lizzie didn’t say anything; just squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together, clasping her cell phone tightly to her chest. She jumped slightly at the light touch of his hand on her shoulder, as she hadn’t heard him walk over, and she felt rather than saw him sit down next to her.

 

She didn’t realize she was crying until she opened her eyes and found that his face was blurry, and she closed her eyes again as the hand on her shoulder tightened briefly before sliding around to gently pat her shoulder blade. She didn’t recall leaning into him, but she must have because the next thing she knew, her forehead was pressed against the curve of his neck and the heat of his body was seeping into her suddenly-cold skin; her free hand was clutching the front of his shirt, and his arms were wrapped loosely around her, one hand lightly resting in the middle of her back and the other tentatively stroking her hair.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, the low sound of his voice loud in the otherwise silent room.

 

Lizzie shook her head, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. Darcy’s fingers slid from her back and hair to curl around her shoulders, and he gently pushed her away from him, releasing one hand’s hold on her and gently tilting her chin with the tips of his fingers until her eyelids fluttered open and their eyes met. “Please,” he murmured as he returned his hand to its gentle grip on her shoulder, “tell me.”

 

Lizzie took one shuddering breath and swallowed, releasing her grip on his shirt, absently smoothing it before dropping her hands into her lap and slipping her cell phone into her pocket. “I suppose you might as well know,” she said lowly. “You’ll probably find out eventually, anyway.” Lizzie reached up and ran her trembling hand through her hair. “It’s Lydia. She’s…in the hospital.”

 

Darcy’s brow furrowed. “What happened? Will she be all right?” he asked.

 

“They don’t know,” Lizzie replied, swiping at her eyes. “She was at a party last night and I guess George was there, too, and apparently George gave her drugs and either they reacted to something else in her system or she O.D’d or something because she passed out, and then he just _left_ her, and no one found her until this morning.”

 

Darcy’s hands tightened briefly before they slipped from Lizzie’s shoulders. His expression smoothed as he slid away from her and stood, and Lizzie, her watchful gaze on his back, had no idea what he might be thinking. Probably something along the lines of, _“Thank God Lizzie rejected me back in October or else I’d be a part of this mess caused by her ‘energetic’ sister,”_ she supposed.

 

 “I imagine you’ll be wanting to go home,” he said stoically, not looking at her. “Be with your family.”

 

“Yes,” said Lizzie. “I mean, I wish I could. I’m supposed to be here for another couple of weeks, but I can ask Dr. Gardiner—“

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Darcy interrupted firmly, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping out a text message to someone. “Just go ahead and get home.”

 

Lizzie blinked. “Um, okay,” she stammered. “Well, I’ll need to get a flight--”

 

“Already taken care of,” he said. “You’ll be booked on a flight by the time you get to the airport.”

 

“Thank you,” Lizzie replied, befuddled.

 

“The driver is on his way here,” Darcy responded, turning and holding out one hand to her. “And I’ll have Jenny send your things, so you don’t have to concern yourself with that, either.”  

 

Lizzie took his proffered hand and stood, wondering at both his briskly efficient generosity and his obvious desire to have her out of his sight as soon as possible.

 

He pulled a handkerchief from seemingly nowhere and pressed it into her hands before guiding her to an elevator. “I’m very sorry for this misfortune,” he said formally. “I hope your sister gets well soon.”

 

Lizzie sighed. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about this to anyone.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Oh, and also if you’ll apologize to Gigi for me; I just emailed her and said that I’d come over and play tennis with her again this weekend.”

 

He nodded. “I will.”

 

“Jane said the doctors are going to want to send Lydia to rehab once she’s out of the woods,” Lizzie said. “Though I don’t know how—“ she cut herself off, her fingers tensing around the square of fine cloth clutched between them. “Well, that’s not your problem,” she finished, and noticed Darcy’s lips tighten as something flashed in his eyes. “I just…” she trailed off as the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside. Pressing the button for the ground floor and meeting Darcy’s solemn eyes once more, she clenched her fist and hissed, “I _knew_ what an untrustworthy asshole he was. I should’ve _told_ her to stay away from him. This is all my fault.”

 

The door shut on Darcy’s expressionless face before he could reply, and Lizzie was too caught up in her own miserable thoughts to notice the way his hands were trembling, as though desperate to reach out and comfort her once more. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of speculation going around about how the Lydia/Wickham stuff is going to go down, and while I pretty much take whatever Rachel Kiley, Mary Kate Wiles, and Ashley Clements say regarding spoilers with a grain of salt (because they're giant trolls), they always seem amused when fans assume that Lydia and Wickham are going to run off together. So I decided to go with something that would allow for George to be responsible for whatever befalls Lydia while also not requiring Lydia and Wickham to have had a lot of interaction since we last saw him. This is just my own speculation for the purpose of the story.
> 
> Note on 01/04/12: Sorry, guys, this has been really canon-balled, what with Pemberley being the company and Gigi having seen the videos, and so I've kind of lost the motivation to write any more of this. It's now merely a Pemberley Arc fic, like originally intended. Sorry that I kept you guys waiting for more, and I'd intended to write more, but...canon.


	4. Unfinished End Snippet (Requested By Aeternamente)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have PRIORITIES, I've had this bit from the end of the story sitting on my computer for a while. Since this fic is now no longer going to finish the P&P story, aeternamente requested that I post this bit from the end. Hope you like it.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did for Lydia,” Lizzie said. “I’m pretty sure you saved her life.”

 

Darcy's brow furrowed and he pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment before he answered. “You weren’t supposed to find out,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets in an uncharacteristically bashful move. “I was assured by the center that it would be done completely anonymously and your sister promised she wouldn’t tell anyone about it.”

 

“Lydia let it slip.” Lizzie replied. “She didn’t mean to, but once she did, I couldn’t let it go until I knew the whole story.”

 

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he gave her an amused sidelong glance. “That I certainly believe,” he said. “You have always been quite persistent.”

 

“Well, thank you,” Lizzie repeated. “I haven’t told anyone else in the family, so they don’t know, but please, let me thank you on all of our behalves for helping my sister.”

 

“I didn’t do it for your family,” Darcy said. Lizzie’s mouth dropped open indignantly, but before she could say anything, he held up one hand to halt her and continued. “That didn't come out quite right. What I meant was, it’s not that I don’t respect your family, but…” he took a deep breath and turned to look directly into her eyes. “I did it for _you,”_ he finished; his voice quiet, yet firm.

 

Shock slid down her spine. “But…why?” was all she could think to say.

 

He gave an incredulous laugh. “Do you really have to ask?” He reached one unsteady hand out and wrapped his fingers around her own, bringing his other hand up to gently clasp her hand between both of his, and Lizzie felt a tremor zip from her hand straight to her heart. “I’m probably going to make a complete fool out of myself once again,” he said lowly, his eyes on their clasped hands, “but at least this time, there’s no camera.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

A small, sad smile slipped across his face as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Lizzie Bennet, I’ve never stopped loving you. And I’m quite certain I never will.”

 

She froze, stunned, but a warmth that felt distinctly like joy bloomed in her chest and she barely managed to keep from flinging herself into his arms. 

 

“I think I can safely say that you no longer _hate_ me,” he continued, and it was really hard to pay attention to him when his thumb was dragging across her knuckles like that, especially now that his eyes were following the progression of his thumb, but Lizzie forced herself to focus on what he was saying, “but I promise not to do anything to make you uncomfortable if your feelings for me are nothing more than friendship. I had to get this off my chest this once; I’ll never mention it again. I would never presume to—“

 

“Darcy,” Lizzie interrupted, bringing her free hand up to press against his lips, “William. Shut up.”

 

He seemed to crumple in on himself a little, his eyes darkening with sorrow, and nodded. “I understand.”

 

Of _course_ he would get the wrong impression. She rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot; I mean, _shut up and kiss me.”_

 

This time, it was his turn to be shocked into silence. Lizzie smirked at him and slid her fingers from his lips and down along his chin and neck to curl them around his tie, which she then used to tug him towards her. When her lips landed on his, his hands clenched around her fingers that were still in his grasp before he released her hand and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him and returning her kiss with more passion than Lizzie would have expected out of someone so reserved.

 


End file.
